


Equals

by walkthegale



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, Femslash, Fingerfucking, Library Sex, Light Dom/sub, Mentor/Protégé, Oral Sex, Smut, Sparring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:08:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27401731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/walkthegale/pseuds/walkthegale
Summary: The next time the Nein show up at the Archive in Zadash, Dairon’s there. Beau would have been less surprised to see them just about anywhere else in Wildemount.
Relationships: Dairon/Beauregard Lionett, Implied Beau/Yasha - Relationship, implied Beau/Jester - Relationship, implied Beau/Jester/Yasha
Comments: 16
Kudos: 117
Collections: Femslash Exchange 2020





	Equals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stonestrewn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stonestrewn/gifts).



> Thank you so much to my beta readers, alwaystheocean, cosmic_llin and kathryne, for your amazing work! Any remaining errors or inconsistencies are entirely my own.

The next time the Nein show up at the Archive in Zadash, Dairon’s there. Beau would have been less surprised to see them just about anywhere else in Wildemount.

She’s seized with the urge to hug them again. She doesn’t do it, but she can’t help the smile that plasters itself across her face when she greets them. They’re alive and, for now, that’s more than enough.

The Nein intend to be there a few days at least, making use of the library, and the amenities of the city, and of the space to rest, after recent events. Most of the group take guest accommodation, but Jester and Yasha will share Beau’s room, the way they always do. It’s not the same as it was, that sharing, but Beau is really not going to fucking look at that right now. At least here there’s a separate bed for each of them.

***

Beau grabs the first training room she sees. There’s someone in it already, dressed like a student, and they leave in a hurry when Beau shows up, with a sideways glance and a scurrying gait. Beau doesn’t talk to them - she’s worried the kid will call her _ma’am_ or something and it’ll be fucking awkward.

Once she’s alone, she launches straight into her usual morning stretches, focusing her mind on each of her muscles as she feels them flex and loosen, considering what exercises would work best for her today. It takes up a lot of her brain in a way very few things do, but she’s still fully aware of the door opening behind her without having to turn around.

“Hey,” she says, reaching down to her toes once more, and then turning as she straightens up. Dairon is watching her from across the room, with a speculative air.

Beau watches them back for a moment. Dairon has the shadow of a bruise under one eye and their hair has been allowed to grow just a shade longer than Beau is used to - there’s a dusting of dark fuzz over their scalp, where normally she wouldn’t expect to see it. Beau wonders where they’ve been recently that they haven’t had time to shave it, but she knows better than to ask.

“Got anything new to teach me?” she asks instead, sinking automatically into a sparring stance, feeling her body prepare itself for whatever might follow, almost without any input from her brain.

“Perhaps.” Dairon walks across the room, their gait unassuming if you didn’t know them, but entirely predatory if you did. “Or perhaps you have something to teach me this time?”

Beau blocks Dairon’s first blow with her raised forearm, though their second comes in fast enough that it clips her shoulder, clearly controlled but just hard enough to hurt. The sharp pain brings Beau’s focus with it, grounds her absolutely in this moment, and then they’re fighting and she’s consumed by the feral joy of this challenge. Beau knows how good she is at this now - she knows her own body, her own reactions, and she’s seen the proof of it time and again. She thinks Dairon might still be better, though honestly, not by much any more.

She lands another blow, and spins into a kick that Dairon blocks with obvious effort. “Don’t hold back on my account,” Beau tells them, through gritted teeth. She aims a low punch. “I’m an Expositor now, you know.” Dairon dodges with a speed Beau would find shocking from anyone but Dairon or herself. “We’re _equals_.”

On the last word, she lands a fist to Dairon’s solar plexus that knocks them on their ass, leaving them winded and obviously in some pain.

“Shit, sorry.” Beau reaches out a hand to help them to their feet, and is a little surprised when they take it.

Dairon, breathing hard, raises one eyebrow. “You need to work on your control.” They sound almost as sardonic as ever, but Beau doesn’t think she’s imagining a hint of pride in there as well.

Beau shrugs. “Thought I’d miss.” She summons up her best shit-eating grin. “Slowing down in your old age, huh?”

The corner of Dairon’s mouth twitches just slightly, and Beau is sure they almost laughed, though the rest of their expression remains impassive. Beau realises, abruptly, that she’s still holding onto Dairon’s hand. That Dairon hasn’t let go either. Their fingers feel kind of rough, scarred maybe, but their hand wraps are soft as satin and a little frayed around the edges from long use.

“Careful, Beauregard,” Dairon tells her, their gaze gleaming and direct. “I’m sure we can find better use for that mouth of yours than petty insults.”

Beau is suddenly really fucking sure sure they mean what she thinks they mean, and the promise of it sends a shiver through her belly. It would be so easy to tug on their hand and pull Dairon in closer. She tightens her grip and feels Dairon do the same in return.

There’s a knock on the door, and Beau drops Dairon’s hand as it opens to admit an apologetic half-elf, who explains that he booked use of the space for his students for the rest of the morning.

Dairon nods. They brush Beau’s arm with their fingertips in passing and leave without a word, vanishing into the Archive on some unknown errand. Beau feels the place where they touched her like the fizzing residue of lightning magic, or the welcome ache of an injury after a healing spell. It stays with her, on her skin and in her head, for some time.

Left to her own devices again, Beau catches up with Caleb at breakfast and plans for the day’s annoying but necessary research.

***

The weight of a hand lands on the back of Beau’s neck and she doesn’t flinch. She knows it’s Dairon - she heard them approach from across the library. She wonders, briefly, whether she would still have heard if Dairon hadn’t wanted her to. Dairon used to be able to sneak up on her easily, seemingly without even making an effort. But now… Beau wonders, and finds she doesn’t know the answer any more.

Dairon slides into the seat next to Beau’s and gestures with their other hand at the sea of books and loose papers that cover the desk in front of her. “I know you’re not inclined to pay attention to my direct advice, Beauregard, but I would suggest that it’s perhaps time to take a break for the night.”

Beau rubs her eyes with her balled fists. She has been researching for most of the day, and doesn’t feel much closer to her goal than she was hours ago. Now that she's distracted from her task, she’s aware that she’s kind of hungry, and that some of her muscles are protesting having sat all hunched up for so long. She rolls her shoulders, feeling suddenly itchy with the lack of movement, like she wants to jump up and fling herself around, or punch some shit really hard, or… well, she can think of a bunch of things that sound pretty fun right now, and she’s really very aware that Dairon hasn’t moved their hand from her neck. Their fingers are warm, and Beau’s skin tingles where they’re touching her.

Without a second’s thought, Beau reaches out and takes Dairon’s free hand in her own, lacing their fingers together. She looks up and finds Dairon looking back at her, their head slightly tilted, their eyes patient but curious.

“Want to help me, uh, work out some tension?” Beau hedges her bets - uses a line she knows she can play off to mean sparring if Dairon baulks at the suggestion.

There’s a moment of silence that stretches out long enough that Beau begins to feel awkward, like she might have made a massive mistake. She wants to look away, but finds she can’t. There’s something electric in Dairon’s eyes, something that pins her in place, unable even to fidget.

“Follow me,” Dairon says, eventually, getting up and vanishing swiftly and silently into the library stacks. Grateful for her own quick reactions, Beau springs to her feet and darts after them, moving just fast enough to catch sight of them disappearing around another corner, then another. Beau does as she’s told, and follows.

Dairon leads her to a dim alcove, between a smooth stone wall and a packed shelf of books that look unused enough to have become a little dusty, even in a place like this. The Archive is quiet anyway at this time of night, but here… here they might as well be the only people in the whole damn building.

The very instant Beau catches up, Dairon has their hands on her shoulders and they shove her back against the wall. They lean in, as close as if they were fighting, and Beau can feel something stretched taut and thrumming with energy between them. Dairon pauses, face inches from Beau’s, and Beau finds herself caught again in the intense spark in their eyes.

“What do you want?” Dairon asks, their voice low enough that it sends a shiver right through Beau. “What would you like me to do to you?”

Beau strains forward, thinking to take them off guard, to kiss them, to regain control of the situation, but Dairon’s hands stay firm on her shoulders, pushing her back into place.

“Beauregard.” Dairon’s tone dips lower still, a note of warning in it that Beau remembers well from training sessions. “ _What do you want?_ ”

Beau swallows, her mouth suddenly dry. “Uh,” she manages, with another half-hearted wriggle in Dairon’s grip. She tries again. “You,” she says, and it comes out hoarse. “I want you.”

Dairon’s lips meet hers hard enough for Beau’s head to knock against the wall behind her. Dairon kisses with the same speed, the same purpose, as they always move the rest of their body. Their tongue finds its way into Beau’s mouth, their teeth nip at Beau’s lips. Beau is utterly swept away by the intensity of it, but damned if she’s not going to give as good as she gets. She can hear her own heartbeat thudding in her ears, and she slides her arms around Dairon’s waist and pulls them in close.

Dairon’s body, flush against Beau's, feels familiar. The same wiry, hidden strength, the same lean muscles, built for speed and precision. For lightning fast reflexes, and never quite being where your opponent expects you to be. A build that, at first glance, might seem fragile, delicate, until you know what lies beneath. Beau wonders, for a fraction of a moment, her mouth locked with Dairon’s, whether this is what her own body feels like to others, and then Dairon rolls their hips against her, one hand leaving Beau’s shoulder and snaking its way into her hair, and Beau gasps, clutching a fistful of Dairon’s Cobalt vestments, helplessly tugging her closer still.

By the time Dairon moves the remaining hand from Beau’s shoulder, using their body weight to hold Beau in place, and slides it down, Beau is breathing hard. Dairon brushes over her breast, in passing, just the lightest touch over her clothes, and Beau feels it like a blow, a shock of pleasure, right to her core, and she finds herself moaning into their kiss. She doesn’t have time to feel embarrassed before Dairon’s fingers are under the waistband of her pants, hot against her skin, and moving further down still, into her underwear.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Beau says, eloquently, when Dairon breaks the kiss just as their fingers find their mark. Beau knows she’s wet, and so very ready. She has been ready for this since she fought Dairon that morning, the thought of it was simmering in the back of her mind all day, while she worked, keeping her distracted, her body tense. She wonders if the same was true of Dairon. She wonders if this was Dairon’s plan all along, or if it had been a decision made on impulse just now. Dairon, Beau considers, isn’t the impulsive type.

“You’ve wanted me for a long time, haven’t you?”

For a wild moment, Beau suspects that they’ve read her mind, that that’s a skill they haven’t taught her yet. Her gaze is drawn up over the sharp planes of Dairon’s face, to meet their eyes, dark and intense and reflecting back the same hunger Beau feels in herself. There’s a tiny mark, Beau notices, on Dairon’s lower lip, left by Beau’s teeth. She wants to kiss them again, but something in Dairon’s manner stops her, holds her still. Waiting.

“All that time that you were my student,” Dairon’s voice is soft and rich, a hot rush against Beau’s cheek. Their fingers move over Beau, slow and surprisingly gentle, and Beau shudders, shifting against Dairon’s hand, seeking purchase. “All that time,” Dairon continues, “you wanted me to fuck you.” They find Beau’s entrance, circle it with one fingertip. “Right here, just like this.” Their finger slides into Beau’s cunt, so easily that they follow it with another. “Didn’t you, Beauregard?”

They pause their movements until Beau nods, a sound that’s almost a whine escaping her throat.

“Did you know I wanted you, too?” Dairon’s fingers sink in deep, the palm of their hand pressing up against Beau’s clit. Their voice is so fucking steady, and they keep talking as Beau moans and bites her own lip in her attempt to stay quiet despite herself. “Sometimes, when you fought me, when you were so busy fighting against yourself, I wanted to throw you to the floor and fuck you until you gave in. Until you begged for more. Would you have liked that?”

Beau nods again, but this time Dairon stills until she gasps out a strained “ _Yes_ ,” and buries her face in the warm skin of Dairon’s shoulder, the neckline of their clothing pushed back out of the way, willing them silently to carry on. _Please. Please, Dairon, I need..._

Dairon makes a sound that might have been almost a laugh, as her fingers, her palm, take up their motion again, to Beau’s relief. “Perhaps this is how I should have controlled you, back then.”

They move like that for a while, in tandem, Dairon’s fingers curling inside Beau, the rub of their palm, their thumb, over Beau’s clit, firm and steady, Beau rocking down into their touch. The heat in Beau builds, her body feels like it’s drawing inwards, recentering itself around Dairon’s hand, all the noise in her head clearing, making way for this burning, desperate _need_.

Beau doesn’t realise she’s being loud until Dairon slows, hisses “Quiet,” in her ear, with a hint of what sounds like humour in it. “The Archivists would not appreciate catching us here, like this.” And then, in a horrifyingly passable imitation of Zeenoth, “It is _disrespectful_.”

Beau almost laughs, but then Dairon redoubles their efforts, slipping immediately into a rhythm that pulls Beau right back to the very knife-edge of pleasure, and she bites down on Dairon’s shoulder, digs her own fingers into their back, in lieu of crying out. She’s not sure, but she thinks she feels them shiver, almost imperceptibly, at the pain.

She’s close, so very close, when Dairon slows again, and Beau fights to hold back the stream of curses that sit on the tip of her tongue. “What the fuck…” slips out, and she doesn’t even care how needy it sounds.

“Are you going to beg, Beauregard?”

She can hear the smile in Dairon’s voice, though she can’t quite bring herself to open her eyes and look up. Dairon’s fingers shift inside her, just a little, there’s just the smallest movement against her clit that feels like a fireball through her entire body. _So close_. Beau sucks in a long breath, holds her voice steady, doesn’t let it break. “No.”

Dairon chuckles, deep and laced with something Beau now recognises as desire. “Good. Remember you’re an Expositor now.” They twist their fingers and Beau’s hips jerk in response. “We’re _equals_.”

They press up, further, deeper, with a rough, grinding movement against Beau’s clit, and _there_ it is, there’s the edge again, and Beau goes tumbling over it, spasming around Dairon’s fingers, in a wave of heat and pleasure that has lights flashing behind her closed eyelids. She’s mostly quiet, just a muffled whimper, as her legs shake beneath her and she relies more than she’ll ever admit on the press of Dairon against her to hold herself up.

Dairon doesn’t give her long to catch her breath before they step back, leaving her feeling strangely exposed. “On your knees, Beauregard.”

Beau’s body reacts to the command instinctually, with a fresh surge of heat and _want_ so intense she’s dizzy with it. She also can’t help but notice they sound really gods-damned turned on, that their voice is breathless and heavy with need. It’s extremely fucking gratifying.

“That’s an instruction,” Dairon adds, impatient now, their tone leaving no room at all for dissent. “I know you know how to follow instructions. You’ve shown me that before.”

Beau, her head still spinning from her own orgasm, is unable to do anything but comply. She drops to the floor in front of Dairon, as Dairon braces themself with one hand against a bookshelf, using the other to help Beau shove their pants and underwear down far enough to give her access.

Beau doesn’t need to be told to bury her face between their thighs, to go to work with her mouth, her lips, her tongue, at the delicious wet heat she finds there. She carries out her task with enthusiasm, with the knowledge of Dairon’s want pulsing through her veins, evident in every twitch of Dairon’s body above her, in how readily they respond to Beau’s touch.

Dairon comes fast and all but silently, one fist clenched tight in Beau’s hair, their breathing harsh and laboured, their eyes pressed shut. Beau has seen Dairon beaten until they’re barely standing - has been a part of that - but she’s never seen them look like this. Has never seen them vulnerable before. She looks up at them for the fleeting moment that it lasts, the taste of Dairon lingering on her tongue, before they gather themself again.

Afterwards, Dairon pulls Beau to her feet and kisses her - a quick, direct kiss on the mouth. There’s something in their eyes that Beau doesn’t hesitate to read as affection. “Go to bed now, Beau,” they say, and then they’re gone, presumably to find their own rest, before anything has a chance to get awkward. Beau appreciates that a lot.

She makes her way out from among the bookshelves, passing her pile of half-completed research on the way. She wonders briefly whether she should do… something… with it - put a Do Not Disturb sign on it or some shit - but _nah_. It’ll be fine there until morning. She heads down empty corridors and up shadowed staircases, until she finds herself back at her room. Her own room, that belongs to her. A mark of her place, her standing, here at the Cobalt Soul.

Inside, Jester and Yasha are sleeping already, and Beau doesn’t wake them as she slips into her bed. She finds, as she lies there, that she can’t get Dairon out of her head, any more than she ever can Yasha, or Jester. That she can’t stop replaying what just happened between them.

She doesn’t want to stop thinking about it, about _Dairon_. Dairon is there in Beau’s head, in Beau’s life, just like this place is, just like the whole Cobalt Soul. Just like Yasha, and like Jester. Like Caleb’s tower, and the Xhorhouse. Like the Mighty Nein.

Beau wonders if she can hold all those things all at once. If she can care about all those things, all those people. Maybe she can want Dairon, and want Yasha, and want Jester. And fuck, maybe she can have them as well, the way she did Dairon tonight. The way she wants to again and again and again.

Beau falls asleep, here in this room that’s hers, surrounded by these people who are hers too, with a smile on her face.


End file.
